Key to My Heart
by DealingDearie
Summary: A series of vignettes revolving around Abe and Princess Nuala and the small, what-could-have-been moments in their life together (just imagine that the princess came back to life because these two desperately need a happy ending, minus pesky Nuada).
1. Velvet

Her hair is like velvet, resting across the pillows in thick, golden wisps as she slumbers. He watches the flicker of her golden-hued eyelids as she dreams and resists the

urge to press his hand to hers, resists the urge to climb into her mind as he's done so many times before. He sighs as he runs his webbed fingers down a strand of her

pale hair. So soft. He blinks at the sunlight filtering in from the curtains, the orange warmth spreading its embrace throughout the room. She sighs and presses closer to

him, her hands coming to rest on his chest as she smiles to herself, a sheepish smile that reminds him so much of when he first met her, a smile that makes her light

scars crinkle across her cheeks in the cutest way. Her near translucent skin turns a shade of gold that he knows well and he feels like laughing when he winds his fingers

with hers. Her eyes fly open and the milky golden irises he finds himself staring into shame the stars with their brilliance.

**All rights go to their respectful owners and the amazing minds that went into creating these awesome characters. I own nothing.**

**Please R&R! Feedback is appreciated! ;)**


	2. Ghost

He hears her laughter and before he knows it, he's walking along the corridor like a puppet on a string. He sees the blue silk of her dress as it trails behind her, the

golden lining shining when it hits the dim, flickering light. Her soft footfalls lull him into a sort of hypnosis as he makes his way across the floor. She turns and her nearly

moonlit hair floats behind her, her sharp teeth sparkling as she smiles. Her cheeks are pale, like always, and when he reaches out to her, she slips away as easily as a

ghost. A ghost, he thinks. She says his name and, even as it echoes in the small space between them, the timbre of her voice suddenly turns into a plea, a short,

desperate, rushed plea. He stops in his tracks and his heart feels stuck in his throat as she looks to him, her smile flickering, always flickering, into the memory she

always was.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	3. Cookies

They run around the yard, chasing one another like children should, laughing their tiny laughs. He is almost jealous, in a way, of how they can express their happiness

beyond a telepathic link, but the fault is not their own so he dismisses the idea. The one child, the oldest, with the pale hair and bluish skin, laughs as she tags her

sister, the one with an ocean-colored streak in her hair and pale stripes on her hands. He looks up at the sky and watches as the sun fades into the bright fire of the

sunset and sighs to himself. How many times has he looked at the sky, watched the sun light up the world and throw it into darkness, and been reminded of her eyes,

eyes he never thought he'd see again? Her voice drifts out from the kitchen and he can hear the smile in it as the scent of freshly baked cookies wafts through the air.

The children smell it, too, apparently, and their smiles, smiles so bright and happy and amazing, break his heart with their beauty.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	4. Embers

The only concern Abe has about the blood staining his clothes is that the blood is drying, and such action only means time is spinning away from him. Nuala's breathing

is labored and it's only a matter of time before he never hears that sound again. The hole in her abdomen is stubborn, and no amount of anything in the world could heal

the damage. The golden blood has slowed its gushing and the small puddles already formed around them are growing cold. He shakes his head as he gives up trying to

close the wound with his hands and holds her to his chest, pressing his forehead to hers as she starts to twitch, blood coating her fingertips and smearing across his

cheek as she touches his face. Her lips, lips so red and lush and perfect, have gone blue, and he knows that his own temperature is doing nothing to warm her. Her hair

is stiff and matted and she mouths something, something like a prayer, and tears threaten to overtake his vision as he realizes that she's praying for him. He begins to

whisper, through hiccups and sobs and the ocean of tears before him, the only thing as close to a prayer he can think of. Its sacred to them both, this verse, and he

knows it by heart, knows it so well because from her lips is the only way he's ever heard it. "Be near me when I fade away…" She's nearly convulsing and he tightens his

grip around her to still the movement. "To point the term of human strife…" He presses his cheek against the top of her head and she grips at his fingers with a strength

he didn't know she had as she mouths the poem along with him, gasping and shaking with each syllable. " And on that low dark verge of life…" Her eyes widen and her

back straightens as a tear pours from her captivating eyes, eyes that burn like the lasting embers of a flame, and rolls down her delicate, blood covered cheek. He

swallows and cries out into the night as he hugs her close. Her grip goes slack and, as her body relaxes, her blood goes cold. The stone crawls up her body and he

finds himself wishing that it would take him with it. Her head drops against his arms and her eyelids glint in the moonlight as the dark rock of the elves overtakes her.

"The twilight of eternal day."

**This was written assuming that both Nuala and Abe are capable of dying multiple times and coming back to life later on. I know they can't, but Liz got her soul sucked out in HB1 and came back with a few whispered words, so who knows? Please R&R! ;)**


	5. Red

She dreams of blood so deep and dark that it chills her very core. It pools at her feet and she swims in it, in her own miserable dreamscape where blood drips from her

eyes. It should be red, she thinks, like all blood usually is, but its golden hue sends ominous tingles down her spine when she realizes the blood is her own, pouring from

her wrists and her nose and the gaping hole in her chest. It snakes down the blade of her ancient dagger in a single line of dark gold. It sticks to her dress and slows her

down, makes her legs grow heavy and seeps into her hair. She runs, is always running, but the light at the end of the tunnel never gets any closer. The blood splashes

against the soles of her feet as she runs along, her breath hitching and her crimson-stained clothes soggy. Something claws at her leg and wraps a slimy finger around

her ankle as she falls into the ocean of shimmering scarlet. She opens her mouth to scream, but the blood washes into her mouth and down her throat as her senses are

deadened and her lungs grow full. Her cries are cut short as a gurgling sound escapes her, fluid gushing from her pores and leaking from her ears. Her ashen hair turns

dark with blood and her vision swims in and out of focus, the light before her fading into a haze of red.

**Please R&R! **


	6. Missing

Abe surfaces with as much grace as he's ever had, the sparkling water rippling around him as he climbs out of his tank. He throws a towel around his shoulders, where it

hangs loosely from his neck, hugging his gills. He walks down the stairs slowly, as if not really wanting to reach the bottom, and sighs as he finally does, his striped

hands sliding down the white railing and his webbed feet skimming across the plush carpet. He turns toward the small sofa and reluctantly allows his legs to carry him to

the table just in front of it, a path so familiar that it's worn into the floor. He rests his palms against the ornate edges and stares at the small book resting on its

mahogany surface. The golden lettering along its spine is faded and the book itself is frail, for all the times it's been read. He opens it without thinking, presses his

thumb to the front cover with tenderness and slips his index finger inside to flip the pages, the pads on his fingers crying out in protest at the memories assaulting them.

He blinks to adjust his senses as he hears her melodic voice read Tennyson, as he listens to the gentle swish of her dress across the floor as she walks. He sees the

golden beads across her waist catch the light as the fabric sways with her hips. Her shoes tap against the hardwood and he can see her eyes glisten with curiosity at the

words before her. Her feels her with such intensity that he could swear she was standing right behind him, as wide eyed as a deer in the headlights, clutching the book

like she owns it. He finds the poem and runs a finger down the side of the page, feeling the slight bump of the letters, as she did so long ago. He lets his hand fall to his

side and the memory washes away like sand in the ocean, slips from him like a leaf in the wind, and he leaves the book there on the table, its aged pages facing the

light and its black ink glittering like gold, and he knows that no matter how many times he touches it, no matter how many times he drowns himself in her ever fading

voice, something will always be missing.

**Please R&R!**


	7. Scream

He winds his fingers with hers and the anticipation they share sizzles in the air as they stare at the small stick in her hand. She shakes with nerves and he rubs her

shoulders to calm her. The bulb flickers constantly and he looks up at the ceiling, irritated. He really should fix that, he thinks. She clutches his hand and her fingernails

scrape against the blue webbing between his fingers. The plus sign fades into existence and it's like the world has stopped turning. Nuala's eyes widen and Abe's breath

leaves him as they both look at one another. She screams with joy and wraps her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face into his gills. He tightens his grip on her waist

and her wedding ring digs into his back, but he hardly cares. He can feel hot tears dripping on his shoulders and when he pulls away, he wipes a finger under her eyes to

quell them. She smiles at him, her face red with elation, and he presses a hand to her stomach in wonder.

**Please R&R! :)**


	8. Bright

Her eyes were bright the day he met her. Granted, a knife was pressed to his throat, but he still couldn't help himself from noticing how those golden orbs shined. They

seemed to brighten when she smiled at him. The everlasting luminance remained behind his eyelids, like blinking after you've stared at the sun for too long. The day

they married, it rained. Her dress was soaked through and she shivered the whole ride home, no matter how high he turned up the heat. He would look over and her

teeth would be chattering, but she'd take his hand and smile at him like he was the world to her. He remembers their first child, how her small smile was an exact copy

of her mother's and how the little bundle of pink blankets managed to capture his heart. Their second daughter made him realize he could laugh. He had covered his

mouth at such a strange sound and they all gazed at him like he'd grown a second head. Nuala had smiled, then, and taken his hand in hers with the utmost tenderness.

He thinks of her now as he holds their third child, a baby boy with one golden eye and one blue, and the sadness lessens at the child's sleepy yawn. The boy acts as if he

doesn't know that his mother is just behind him, her body relaxed and her arm dangling off the side of the bed as she stares up at them, her vacant stare losing its

shine as the fire that burned within those eyes for so long begins to dim. The bed sheets are ruined and no doubt need changing, but he can't find the nerve to go over

there just yet. Their daughters are in the other room, their questioning thoughts probing his mind as they ask about the odd silence that has befallen the house. A tear

slides down his cheek as he thinks about how he'll tell them and he suddenly, swiftly, feels hollow. The child wiggling in his arms is the only thing keeping him on the

ground and as he glances at his long time wife, he finds that deep within him, something has broken.

**For some reason, I like writing about Abe's sadness and the various ways Nuala could die. :( Please R&R! :P**


	9. Heart

The blood gushes from Nuada's chest and he weakly pulls a hand to cover the dark red stain on his armor, shaking and gasping with pain. It doesn't register, not at first,

that this could possibly be the end of the world. Abe stands there, dumbfounded, staring at the wound and trying to figure out how it got there without a visible weapon.

He blinks and as Nuada looks up from the hole in his chest, his dark eyes filled with sorrow, Abe's own eyes dawn with realization. He turns, his blood running cold at the

dreadful chill slithering through him, and stops dead when he sees her pull the dagger from her chest, the blade covered in her golden blood, as she gasps, her eyes

shining with pain. She sways and her body crumples to the floor, her skirts tangled around her legs as the dagger tumbles from her hand and skids across the floor,

clanging loudly in the silence of the chamber. As he runs, he feels a revelation come to him and, if it wasn't such an unbelievably bittersweet thought, he might feel a bit

of joy. He does, after all, have the ability to love. Why else would his heart be shattering into a thousand pieces?

**Flashback vignette! Please R&R! :)**


	10. Soulless

Quite possibly the greatest feat of all, he thinks, was not falling to her knees when he first met her. Her eyes were clear, wide with fright and bright with determination,

and he couldn't stop staring at her beauty. He doesn't know how he managed to stay on his feet when she touched his hand and he definitely has no recollection of how

he didn't melt in her palms when he kissed her. This, of course, all hurts him now, his heart shattered in front of him, lying in pieces across the room. Every moment

shared with her is like another kick when he's already down, and nothing can heal the wounds. His body feels empty, soulless, and he feels like following her lead, taking

the gun from his holster just to feel pain, just to feel alive once more. Except that he won't be alive, and he knows how much she loved life, how much she would hate to

see him follow her, so he keeps his hands where they are. He sees her face in his mind and wishes for the oblivion of sleep that, as with every night, evades him.

**Please R&R! :)**


	11. Agony

The first time he sees her, truly sees her with no boundaries hovering unspoken between them, his heart cries out in pain. A jagged scar puckers out against the milk-

white skin of her abdomen. An angry line crawls across the delicate curve of her hip and snakes along her lower back. Her arms, arms so soft and gentle, are decorated

with marks that wind up her shoulders and vanish at her collarbone. Her legs look no less damaged and her feet are adorned with livid scars that coil around her toes.

Her eyes are downcast, as if ashamed, and her hands fidget with the skirts of a dress that had been discarded long ago. Abe's breath hitches at the glossy tears in her

eyes, her cheeks a deep shade of gold. She scoots closer to the bead, as if to cover herself, and he acts on instinct, his arm swinging out to stop her, his shaking fingers

latching around her wrist, firm but gentle. She gasps at the sudden movement in the still silence and sighs as he runs his fingertips over the raised scar there. He sees

so much in a single instant, so much she's always been too afraid to tell him. How much agony must she have been in to receive such wounds? He feels the pain she

suffered all those years ago, even the inner turmoil she's in now, and he has the sudden urge to erase the pain from her mind, kiss it from her skin. She starts, as if

sensing his thoughts, and the corners of her lips curl up in a smile reserved only for him. She wraps her arms around his neck, her wedding ring digging into his back,

just as his hands find the curve of her slim waist, his nails scraping against a small scar. Her eyelids flutter and he swallows her moan with his mouth.

**Please R&R! :)**


	12. Golden

It's perhaps the most painful moment of his life, aside from the distant memory of warm blood on his hands. He's not entirely sure if he pulls the spear out or if someone

else does it for him, but he can recognize the ground as it smacks his head. Or does his head smack the ground? He tries to cover the dark hole in his chest, a

spearhead once buried in his ribs, but his hands aren't working like they should. He can hear screaming in the distance, a pained, destroyed kind of sound that doesn't

sound quite human. The sleeves of her dress brush against his shoulder and her face swims into focus. Her bright eyes pierce his vision and he grunts at the stinging in

his torso, spreading through his body like liquid fire in his veins until his body is screaming. Nuala grips his shoulders like she's trying to hold him down. He didn't realize

he was moving. How could he, with such pain rippling through him? She hovers over him, her lips trembling, her fingers shaking as she runs them across his cheek,

blue blood coating her fingertips and crusting beneath her nails. She sniffles and he can feel the earth sigh beneath him, as if at the behest of its queen. She takes his

hand in his own and he feels utterly at peace with everything. He blinks once, twice, three times to erase her crushed expression from his view. He finds the strength

to raise a quivering hand to her face, his weakening fingertips flitting across the faint scar along her cheek. She sees stars so bright they outshine the moon. She sees

a kiss planted on blue lips, waterfalls running over moss covered rocks, and the smell of freshly cut grass invades her senses in the most intimate way. She sees

feathers rise in the air as the pillows cushion their fall from ecstasy. She sees violet eyes staring out into a new world, wonder written plainly in such small irises. S

he hears laughter, such joyous laughter, and feels a hand in hers. She sees pale feet running bare across a dewy lawn, blades of grass caressing the soles. She feels

a kiss on her cheek, on her neck, across her shoulder, and hears a sigh. She sees blinding sunlight, thinks to cover her eyes before she realizes that it isn't sunlight at

all. It dims quickly, as if extinguished, and Abe's hand falls. He exhales slowly, his eyes blinking rapidly to regain his blurring vision. He thinks of how her face shines

in the sunlight and how that really, truly is sunlight warming his skin, her arms wrapped around his torso with an iron grip, her nails digging into his back. He doesn't

feel it, though, because he's so caught up in staring into her fathomless eyes, eyes that drip golden tears that glisten in the- glorious, graceful, wonderful- sunlight.

He sees the orange rays cascade upon them like embers in the rain as her face fades into the vision of an angel, her feathery wings wrapped around his torso with a

familiar iron grip, her nails digging into his back. He doesn't feel it, though, because the sunlight has stolen his vision. The wings fold around him, tightening their

feather-soft grip of steel, and he knows nothing.

**Maybe Abe got into a fight with someone. After all, his job is a dangerous one. ;) Please R&R.**


	13. Ice

She strains to put up the last ornament, her arm stretching out to the top branch, the hook so close yet so far, and she tries to retain that Christmas spirit so very much

discussed. Her light hair falls in front of her eyes and she tries in vain to blow it away, her frustration rising with each failed attempt to hang the decoration. She huffs in

annoyance as her sleeve gets caught on the end of a tree branch, her eyes narrowing, and her face an angry shade of gold. She can see her reflection in the amber-

hued ornament and the light bounces off of it, momentarily blinding her. She blinks away the light just as she starts to sway, her sleeve still caught. She lets out a cry of

protest as she flails her arms, her body falling, the tree following suit. And then she stops falling, her body upright and the tree still in place. A pair of ice cold hands

winds around her crimson-clad waist and grips her hips, her back pressed to a strong chest and her heart fluttering like a thousand butterflies. Abraham is laughing, she

realizes, and the small vibrations radiate through her ribs. He rubs his cheeks against her feather-soft hair and she smiles, her hand reaching up to caress his face. His

gills brush against her knuckles and she turns in his arms, her sleeve finally free. "You saved me," she whispers, her voice loud in the contented silence. Abraham makes

an agreeing noise in the back of his throat and gently takes her hands in his. Nuala shakes her head, mischief glinting in her smile, and leans into her husband's

welcoming embrace.

**Please R&R. ;)**


	14. Haven

She waits for him, always. If he takes too long to come to dinner, caught up in a book, she sets the table and takes a seat, waiting. If he takes too long getting ready for

bed, she sits at the edge, waiting. If he takes too long lingering in his dreams, she watches him, always silently staring in wonder, waiting. Waiting, forever anticipating,

just as she does now. He slips into bed and she smiles at him, a fond smile he's only ever witnessed, and he wraps his arms around her as they settle against the

pillows, the dim lights a cushion to her tired eyes. She rests her head against him and sighs in exhaustion as she falls into her haven, her sanctuary, her love. He falls

asleep quickly, wrapped around her, and she quickly follows him, her body warm as she sinks into the pillows. When she wakes up, she thinks, she'll eagerly await the

moment he, too, wakes, and, for now, as she sinks into the deepest slumber of her life, a slumber where monsters are burned by his presence, she lets his breathing lull

her away. If ever he takes too long to follow her into the oblivion of death, she thinks, she'll sit on a cloud, looking out at the world with a smile on her face, waiting.

**Please R&R. ;)**


	15. Shimmer

Nuala thinks, sometimes, that maybe, just maybe, he is happy. She'll sit, her stare blank, and gaze up at the heavens in wonder. Perhaps he is the sunlight in her

hair, the sorrow in her heart, or even the tears upon her cheeks. Maybe he is the wind tugging her dress, leaves brushing her feet as she stands in front of her three

children, flowers in her hand. The deep silk of her skirts drifts in the breeze, feathered ebony glinting in the light. The youngest of her daughters sniffles and clutches

her brother's hand, as if assuring herself that he's there. His eyes, eyes as blue as such smooth skin she once kissed, are nearly grey with sorrow. Sarah, the oldest,

stares out at the world as if she sees nothing and everything all at once, her eyes both devoid and full of grief as her sister swallows down a sob, the tiny gills along

her neck quivering with the motion. The marble headstone stands tall, as unwavering as he always was, and as sturdy as their life together could never be. The faint

lettering across the stone is blue, like sunlight shining upon the ocean, and the cracked lines stretch out to encompass the entirety of it all, looking so much like icy

veins crawling across a dying body. She swallows, her eyes downcast, as she stares at his name. It's there, planted firmer than her own feet as they rest on the

ground, as if anyone could ever think that a few words and two dates could ever sum up his life. Her son allows a cry to pass his lips and Nuala thinks that she should

reach out to him, hug her children as tightly as possible, but her body doesn't move an inch. She blinks, her lips parting as her breath leaves her in a rush of cold air,

and she brings her ghostly hands up to touch her stomach, where she once guarded something more important than her own life, where she once held such precious

cargo, and where he once touched her in awe, his eyes bright with happiness at such a wonderful revelation. She would be a ghost, she thinks, drifting past the rows

of stone, tendrils curling around the mark of the end of his life, ever more the embrace of a lover. But her life is too much, now, to throw away, and she turns from

the grave as she turned from him so long ago, when she drove a blade into her heart, and as she thinks of that moment, tears leak from her eyes. She never

apologized for it, and now she never will. The children look up at her, their eyes red and wide, and she puts her hands on their small shoulders as she begins to walk

away, her black dress dragging across the ground, leaves trailing after her, as if knowing he would want her to stay. She feels the pull as strongly as ever, she always

does, but she ignores the call of her heart and pushes on, opening the car door to usher them inside. She shuts it gently, her hand resting against the handle, and

finds the strength to look back at what she's leaving. A gust of wind comes up behind her, wrapping its arms around her, and, for a moment, she is reminded of his

arms around her as they danced at their wedding, as he hugged her as she held their first child, as he cried over her as she faded, and as he kissed her under the

moonlight. The wind sighs as she rests her head against a shoulder that's no longer there and her gasp of sorrow does not go silent as the wind carries it away. She

can hear laughter, or maybe she's finally gone insane, but it echoes in her head and rustles in the trees, as light as ever, and she knows that this is his way of

releasing her from such great agony. Tears grow cold on her cheeks and she smiles, laughs into the wind, because the sunlight filters in through the near-translucent

headstone, making it shine like ocean-gilded gold. Perhaps, she thinks, he is the love in her heart, the innocence in her children's laughs, even the moonlight across

her face. Maybe, just maybe, Abraham is the newborn shimmer in her eyes, shining like the sun as its brilliant light fades from the sky for all eternity.

**I guess I sort of prolonged the tragic ending, huh? :( Please R&R and thank you for reading! ;)**


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